


and he's alone, and i'm alone, and now i know it

by softlyforgotten



Series: apocalyptic [2]
Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco, The Young Veins
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-23
Updated: 2009-08-23
Packaged: 2017-10-22 23:52:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/243948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softlyforgotten/pseuds/softlyforgotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follow-up to "his ruins were beautiful": what happened to Ryan?</p>
            </blockquote>





	and he's alone, and i'm alone, and now i know it

1.Tthey have known each other all their lives. Brendon thinks that therefore this really should be impossible, the way he can’t help, can’t _help_ but love Ryan, even though he has seen Ryan looking like shit after weeks of not sleeping (a sixteen year old trying to save the world, out on his bike distributing leaflets and going to rallies and how stupid, how fucking _stupid_ was that? Brendon thinks that he was an idealist once, too, but maybe Brendon just worked out earlier on that nothing was gonna help, nothing was gonna stop the war. Ryan never really worked that one out). Even though he has seen Ryan with his stupid messy hair and smelt his disgusting morning breath and the way Ryan preens carefully to get the un-preened look. Even though he knows the way Ryan looks when he’s fourteen years old and Spencer has somehow convinced him to let Spencer paint his face like a tiger. It shouldn’t be possible after all this time to somehow fall _in_ love with Ryan, to see the quiet, hopeful way Ryan looks at people and feel his own heart kind of skip a little bit, to sneak into his room at night to wake him up and tell him something only to end up standing helplessly at the end of the bed, twisting his fingers in his hem, staring, and then getting embarrassed when Ryan stirs and mumbles, _Bren?_ and saying, Don’t Worry, Never Mind, and sidling out. It’s unfair, Brendon thinks. He didn’t even ask for this to happen, anyway. Seriously: what the _fuck_?  


*

When it first happens Brendon doesn’t really believe it. Ryan’s been beaten up pretty bad, before, doesn’t seem to know how to shut his goddamn mouth when he needs to. Brendon tries to stop him, and he tries, afterwards, to run in and stop the men but they slam him away with a blow to his head that makes him dizzy, and by the time he’s gathered his senses again Ryan is in a crumpled heap on the ground, and his mouth is bleeding a little bit.

Brendon uses a strength he never knew he had, and lifts Ryan up, hauls him against Brendon’s chest and cradles him in his arms, trying to be as gentle as he can, staggering a little under the weight. Then he walks all the way home.  


*

 

2\. It doesn’t really seem possible, to Brendon. Brendon knows the kind of people Ryan likes; the girls with the eyeliner (when you can still get eyeliner) and nice figures, hips and slight breasts and something beguiling about them, and the kind of guys, too – odd-looking, like a lean kind of steel, with the same haircuts and style as Ryan. Brendon knows that he doesn’t fit into any of these categories. It hurts, but it’s not really like Brendon had any expectations in the first place. And Ryan is so – Brendon can’t even find words for it, really, for the stupid, strange beauty that Ryan has, for the way he looks when he’s telling a story (in the same goddamn monotone), for the dry wit he shows sometimes, for the way he’ll fall asleep on you, slowly, almost indecisively. as though he hasn’t made a real choice about To Cuddle or Not To Cuddle yet. Brendon thinks it’s beyond strange, really, that Ryan is _all this_ and that he still, somehow, gets jealous (though Brendon doesn’t realise that’s what it is, at first) the night Brendon meets Spencer’s friend, Pete Something, and goes out with him. It will take him a while, later, to remember, what they actually _did_ – it was in the lead up to the war, Brendon remembers, only a few weeks away, and everyone was scared and everything was waiting, and he and Pete went to one of the last clubs still open and danced under the flashing lights until Brendon’s head was spinning. On the way home Pete kissed him, quite nicely, outside Spencer and Brendon and Jon and Ryan’s flat. Then Brendon went inside, and Ryan came out of the dark, and picked a fight.  


*

 

They all stay up, that first night. They all stay up, and Spencer reads as much as he can, and has a small, quiet breakdown over the fact that the internet’s gone, that they can’t look up what it is. There’s bruising all across Ryan’s ribs – Spencer presses his fingers gently and Ryan twists away in his sleep, mouth breaking open on a small cry of pain.

By the next morning, Ryan isn’t so innocently unconscious, and nothing can rouse him. Brendon clenches his fists to stop his fingers from trembling; Spencer and Jon tilt their heads at each other and Jon says soft, terrible words: _internal bleeding_ , he says, and Brendon looks away, stares at the floor, _coma_.  


*

 

3\. When Ryan has finally finished screaming about something that doesn’t even really make any sense to Brendon – something about leaving dishes out? Or maybe borrowing Ryan’s shirt two months ago and not asking? – he stops and stares at Brendon and finally says, in this rasping, dead voice, hoarse from shouting, “How was your date, anyway?” Brendon blinks back at Ryan, eyes huge, and he’s got his back pressed up against the sink, has stood silently through Ryan’s tirades trying to work out what the _fuck_ he’s really done that’s made Ryan so furiously, and – amusingly, or so Spencer will say later – he doesn’t really get it. “Uh,” he says, “nice?” and Ryan stares at him for a long moment and then says, “Fuck this,” and walks out of the room. For the next four days he ignores Brendon, despite Brendon’s constant questions ( _What?_ what are you so pissed at me for, Ross? No, seriously, _what_?) and Spencer looks half-amused, half-annoyed, and Jon looks smugly knowing and Brendon seriously does not get what’s going on. He’s kind of half-pissed, though, and he doesn’t really know what to do or what to think about anything, until one night Pete calls and talks for a while, and when Brendon hangs up Ryan’s standing in the corner of the room, and he looks a little bit desperate and when Brendon tilts his head inquisitively at him and says, “You okay?” Ryan laughs, short and rough, and says, “Fine. I hope you two are very happy together.” He stalks off to bed, and Brendon thinks _um_ and then _huh_ and then _wait, no_ — and then, in a surprising turn of events, he gets it.  


*

 

After two weeks Brendon walks back into Ryan’s room after Spencer’s finally talked him into taking a bath, ducking under the cold water (Brendon still can’t quite get used to the idea of no heating) and Jon’s taking photos on his polaroid camera, wasting some of the last of his film. “Wait,” Brendon says, and his voice sounds odd, and he realises he hasn’t used in a while. “No, wait,” he says again, and Jon looks up, stares at him. “What – what are you doing?” Brendon asks. “Ryan will – he hates it when you take photos of him without asking, he’ll, he’ll kill you. what are you doing?”

Jon says, “i want to remember, Bren,” and his voice is kind of ragged, too. “I wanna remember _everything_.”

Brendon says, as calmly as he can, “Get the fuck out.”  


*

 

4\. Brendon waits for the next day, waits until Spencer and Jon have gone out (whispering about finding a place out of the city to stay, somewhere small, and safe, and about maybe using what they’ve got saved up to buy something), until Ryan’s wandered out and he looks small and uncertain around Brendon, has for a while, but Brendon’s only just noticed. He has only just noticed, too, how Ryan’s gaze lingers on him when he’s not looking directly at him, how Ryan watches him when he leaves the room, and he notices for the first time the odd, hungry longing in Ryan’s eyes, and he recognises it as his own. He waits until the day is getting darker, and then he backs Ryan against the wall in the kitchen and breathes, “You really should have just _said_ something,” and Ryan says, “What?” His eyes are darting kind of nervously between Brendon and a spot just above Brendon’s head, and Brendon looks at him and tilts his head and whispers, “Fuck, you’re so—” and Ryan says “What?” again, and Brendon pushes him back further against the wall and kisses him, firmly, so that Ryan doesn’t have any doubts about what’s happening. Ryan’s reaction is impressively quick, really; he sinks into Brendon’s touch, hands coming up to clench in Brendon’s shirt and pull him closer, press as warm and fierce as he can and he bites a little at Brendon’s lip, moans when Brendon pushes his leg between Ryan’s, breathes harsh and ragged and they barely make it to the couch, let alone one of their bedrooms. They fuck slow and warm, Ryan’s eyes huge and fixed on Brendon, and when they’re finished and curled around each other, and once Brendon’s whispered “Seriously, the couch, don’t tell Spence,” Ryan falls asleep there, underneath him.   


*

 

Eventually Brendon kind of forgets what it’s like to not be here, to not be waiting at Ryan’s bed for something, for _anything_. He eats when Spencer forces him too, and Spencer and Jon’ll be with him, watching Ryan, more often than not, but Brendon’s the only one who never leaves. He never remembers falling asleep or waking up, but he supposes on some level that is still capable of thinking about those things that he does, and the rest of the time he just waits.

After Ryan’s been like it for six weeks, Brendon wakes up from a nightmare for the first time, and Spencer finds him on the bed, shaking Ryan uselessly (gently, though; Brendon has never been able to hurt Ryan) and shouting, “Say _something_ , fucking say something, I can’t – I can’t remember, I need you to—”

Spencer says, “Bren!” and Brendon looks up with desperate eyes.

“How does he say Brendon?” he asks. “Do you remember? Spence, you remember, right? I keep – I can’t – I don’t wanna forget, please, how does he say it?”

After Ryan’s been out for eight weeks, someone else walks into the room. Brendon thinks he says something, but it’s hard to be sure – he doesn’t realise he’s singing aloud to Ryan until one week after he started, after all. It’s somebody Brendon’s never seen before, but he can’t quite muster the spirit to care, and Spencer takes him away pretty soon, anyway.

Seventy-six days after Ryan was beaten up, he dies. Brendon used to think that maybe he wouldn’t notice if Ryan actually did, but he does, and then he walks out of the room (for the first time in sixty-two days) and looks at Spencer, and then Jon starts crying and Brendon doesn’t really remember anything after that.  


*

 

5\. It’s two weeks since they’ve moved into their cabin. Brendon wakes up and Ryan’s kissing him, the corner of his mouth, lazy and warm, and Brendon hums out, softly, content. “Mornin’,” he says, and Ryan mumbles something in reply and then gets back to kissing him, chin a bit prickly with a few days worth of stubble, but his mouth is still soft and surprisingly gentle. Ryan kind of favours the rougher kind of kissing, and Brendon likes that, too, (likes _Ryan_ , full stop, likes that he finally, finally got what he wanted) but he also likes this, likes being kissed awake and then to find Ryan stirring against, him, rolling his hips in a almost casual kind of way, sex that isn’t urgent or fierce, just real, just them. When they’re done, when Ryan’s drowsy and curled up next to him, he says, eyes darting up like he’s a little bit afraid, “I'm kind of in love with you,” and Brendon feels it seep through him warm, like honey. He breathes out, once, and smiles against Ryan’s hair, and whispers (like a vow, like an oath of fealty that he’d sooner die than break) “Yeah, me too.” Ryan curls closer against him and Brendon likes that, too, likes that Ryan doesn’t really seem to get sick of being able to touch Brendon, and still kind of gets frustrated that there’s a limit to how close they can get. Ryan’s humming an old song, and Brendon remembers it, vaguely, remembers the tune but not the words. Then Ryan laughs, short and surprised in the early morning and when Brendon grins and asks, “What?” Ryan is still laughing, quiet and warm. He says, “Sorry, sorry. I just. I love you. that’s all.” Brendon kisses him, and the war feels very, very far away.


End file.
